I love this photo.

If people asked me about love and where it was in my life right now, I’d show them this.

It was one night in college when I met Mily and over that Coors Light she is holding would begin a lovely life long affair. We bonded over being drunk freshmen in our pajamas at our school dance, late nights looking over the Moraga hills, odd one night stands in our dorm rooms (that we had with other people, of course), midnight pots of white rice, double stuffed Oreos, learning the rap to “American Pie” by Madonna and really never forgetting to mistakes.

Through the mistakes we made when met, we learned about each other. And that’s where our love again.

So if people asked me about love and my life right now? I’d probably say I’d ask Mily to marry me. (Side note, our marriage would probably be gayer than “gay marriage could handle…)

That’s what the majority says right? Marriage only occurs between a man and woman. Love only occurs between a man and a woman…

When North Carolina told the world that you can still marry your cousin in their state (unless if they are gay), a friend said via Facebook, “Valuable lesson learned at an early age: majority rules. And until that majority changes, you have to just keep on living your life and share your story.”

At a Prop 8 protest with Mily

My story is simple: I’m gay, but I’m also human.

People that I’m lucky enough to love in my life, will know me for this. I will enjoy the occasional Cosmo (which I have know traded up for a stiff gin or vodka Gibson martini), but I also have the same, hopes, dreams, and desires as anyone else.

Every time this issue comes up to a vote, I’d like to think that people are rising above this. I used to fill my opinion with pleasantries, but now it’s getting ridiculous. It’s come down this.

Marriage is not an option, it’s an issue of equality. For this to be a vote time and time again, seems utterly ridiculous. If Robert Downey Jr. got his shit together after so many times in rehab, why can’t America start to do the same?

I’m sure if Martin Luther King was alive, I’m sure he’d include a bigger paragraph in his “I Have Dream” to include the gays. But he did say, “And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.”

And so…

Dear North Carolina,

One day, you’re going to feel stupid that you voted on this. And that you were one of the states that couldn’t get a clue.

xoxoxo

Kimmy

And as Obama today also rode in on a rainbow unicorn and announced his support for gay marriage, I know that the LGBT community are an amazing group of fighters. And one day, it won’t be a fight, or an issue anymore of whether to get married or if it is allowed. But rather an fight between brides or grooms of how they’d like to feed their first slice of wedding cake to each other.

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And the drunker I got, I realized that stuff doesn’t work.

Because when it comes to the heart, the heart has the amazing ability to heal itself.

Every thing you do has to be some sort of learning experience. Being able to love someone, saying you genuinely love them and meaning it, and being willing to put every piece of you out is something to build onto who you are as a person. I don’t take “I love you” lightly, I take it straight up like a martini.

I’d never take it back, because regret is something that is an ugly thing to deal with. It limits the way you can move on, and more importantly it limits the way that the heart can heal itself. I’ve been told this many-a-plenty, and while I’ve kept it in the back of my head, I needed it to connect.

It’s always tricky to get you heart and mind to connect. I fuck it up for myself many times. And for all of you that know better–I’ll take my get out of jail free card and blame it on being in my twenties.

I find it refreshing to somehow everyday to honor your faults, but it’s cathartic when you realize how powerful your heart can be. It heals itself.

What happens now?

I’m hopeful, still. I’m taking a moment to be guarded.

And I’m going to turn over new leaves, watch colors erupt, and see some new seasons change.

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